The son came home after lessons, almost crying. He whispered, “Mom, I lost all my money! I went to the toilet, and when I came back, my pencil case was empty.” I realized that there was no point in looking for it in class. The parents would just claim that my son had lost the…
The son came home after lessons, almost crying. He whispered, “Mom, I lost all my money! I went to the toilet, and when I came back, my pencil case was empty.” I realized that there was no point in looking for it in class. The parents would just claim that my son had lost the money himself. And then it hit me. I said, “Let’s…” “…turn this into a lesson—not just for whoever took it, but for everyone.” My son looked confused, but he nodded, trusting me.
The next day, I went to school with him and spoke to his teacher. I asked if I could address the class for just a minute. With the teacher’s permission, I stood before the children and said gently, “Yesterday, someone may have made a mistake. Maybe they took something that didn’t belong to them. We all make mistakes when we feel scared or in need. So today, I’m giving everyone a second chance. I’ve placed a small box on the teacher’s desk. If the person who took the money wants to return it—no questions, no punishment—all they have to do is drop it inside quietly during recess.”
That afternoon, as the class went out for lunch, my son and I stayed behind. The room was silent except for the ticking of the classroom clock. After a few minutes, a child silently slipped back into the room and placed something inside the box. When recess ended, we opened it. Inside was my son’s money—along with a small, folded note that read: “I’m sorry. I was scared.”
I didn’t ask who it was. I only asked the teacher to talk to the class about empathy and honesty. That evening, my son hugged me tightly and said, “Mom, I don’t feel angry anymore. I feel… better.” Sometimes, the right response isn’t revenge or accusation—it’s giving someone the chance to choose kindness over fear.
